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The Cost of Principles
230.M41. Segmentum Obscurus. Sector Deus. Subsector Mortis. Subsector Capital Styria. Hive Mureck. Temple District. Basilica of the Emperor Above All. 2 days after the Battle of Styria. Sister Domenica Theodosia ranked Palatine of the Order of the Bloody Tears reassembled her bolter again. She had been constantly doing this for the hour and had lost count how many times she had performed the rites of maintenance on her the weapon with the ease born of practice. It would be time soon. The enemy had come to defile this most hallowed place. Reputedly, a place the Immortal God Emperor of Mankind before his ascension upon the Golden Throne had visited to pray over the future of mankind. The Basilica was made in honor of his most holy act. As one of the few volunteers chosen to remain and defend the basilica when the Order withdrew from the subsector, she had known it was only a matter of time before the temple and indeed the remnants of this subsector were overrun. It matters not. It also did not matter that she and the several dozen of her sisters under her command were going to die. A house of the God Emperor could never be left unguarded no matter the cost. As she put her weapon together again for the very last time, her helm beside her came to life with the voice of Sister Alexina her second in command. “Palatine, the traitors approach the temple district.” She quickly wore the helm and with a hiss it sealed itself with her armor, she acknowledged her second and sent her orders for the coming battle and hoped the inquisitor would be done preparing his weapon in time for the final battle. Not that she had any pretensions of the weapon whatever it maybe of turning the tide however it may inflict a greater amount of casualties on the enemy specially those traitorous nobles and their lackeys. The plaza in front of the Basilica was littered with the enemy dead. Mostly. Here and there the Palatine would have seen the tell tale spark of broken power armor from her sisters. She did not. For even now she and her remaining sisters were locked in combat with the enemy elite. These mutants possessed sick cunning and directed the vast rabble of noble lackeys to charge first and soak up the damage while they stood in the back content to spew their heretical creed at their slave host as they broke against the steeled fist of the Emperor’s might. A few of the mutants had great wings which they used attempting to circumvent the charnel house that the plaza has become but they were met by the Sisters within the Basilica and even now were dueling within the upper spires of the temple. Destruction of the nearby buildings and blocking the roads with their rubble meant that a frontal assault on the temple was the only way for the heretics to bring enough of their cultist to win. The mutant scum attacked only when their cannon fodder grew thin. A few were cut down as they crossed the killing field but due to the casualties her sisters taken against the heretic rabble most were able to cross the plaza and ascend the steps to the grand doors of the Basilica where she and the remaining Sisters of Battle waited for them. Combat was a blur to Domenica she could only remember brief images stilted and lifeless compared to the real thing except when Alexina fell in glory. Alexina had already killed a score of the mutant abominations with her evicarator. Her latest opponent was a behemoth towering over its lesser kin. Even so the sister was a consummate swords woman. Barely a few seconds had passed and she had already inflicted a dozen wounds. The monster sensing that Sister Alexina could not be overcome by conventional means attacked with abandon. Charging headlong into the bisecting chop splitting the mutant from shoulder to waist. Unfortunately, the sheer mass of the mutant meant Sister Alexina was dragged down by the hurtling chunk of dying mutant. Both of them perished when the mutant quickly detonated the melta bomb it had held in its hand. The Palantine herself was locked with a duel with another hulking mutant, though less impressive than the behemoth that died he proved to be a master using his powered glaive able to keep Sister Domenica from getting close. Her chainsword was already rapidly losing its teeth deflecting the glaive. She had to quickly disengage after each clash lest her chainsword be broken into pieces by the power weapon. As they were about to clash again, an ear piercing sound could be heard from inside the Basilica. She tried to demand to whoever was left inside the temple to report but she realized that her helm was cleaved off during the ensuing melee. Another realization was that the battlefield apart from the eerie noise was entirely silent. All combatants had temporarily ceased fighting to gaze at the slowly opening doors of the Basilica to look at the horrors within. The interior of the Basilica was completely different from the last time Sister Domenica had seen it. Sigils of the ruinous powers had befouled icons of the God Emperor. Cultist stood around the symbols of the dammed chanting in a tongue no living being should ever know. Everywhere inside the vast temple were signs of being touched by the warp. The bitter and metal smell of blood also pervaded the senses. At the center of it all was the inquisitor floating in mid air sparks of warp lightning surrounding his figure. As he slowly opened his eyes he took in the site of the heretical army bearing down on the beleaguered imperials. He started uttering words with no sound though and though no ill effects happened within the Basilica. On the outside pandemonium erupted. The chaos rabble immediately halted and as one proceeded kill itself. Blood and gore ran freely as they turned upon one another. The sound of the crazed and the damned reverberated through the plaza. Packs of cannibals roamed the area feasting on the dead and dying. The Palantine felt the words of insanity in her mind but through faith in the Emperor she was able to whether its effects though she was now on one knee and bleeding from her ears. She could see from her vision as she was fighting to remain sane that the creatures she was fighting were not affected by these words but were concentrated in chanting some heathen ritual. The words stopped when inquisitor let out a demonic roar and started to rapidly change shape. Horns started to protrude from his head and one of hands now bore a tentacle. Further overt changes stopped and the inquisitor once again focused on killing the chaos rabble. This time using the flesh of his cultist and retainers to craft monstrosities to destroy them. As the creatures neared the door Palatine Domenica Theodosia knew what must be done. These abominations were the greater threat and she called for her remaining sisters to disengage from defending the doors of the Basilica to purging the inquisitor for his defilement of this most sacred ground. She gave one last look at the mutant she fought and charged the mass of warp infused flesh with her sisters. A prayer on her lips, her bolter firing in one hand and her chainsword swinging in another. Dusan Grand Master of the Verda Strazar took several labored breaths as his body attempted to quench its need for air doing nothing but watch the heathens running into the mass of flesh inside the temple. He then checked Estera and when there were no signs of life did it again. No good, if the evicerator had not killed her then the melta bomb certainly did. Maja her second skin fared slightly better. Estera’s blood was still feeding her keeping Maja alive though without immediate ministrations of a flesh priest this would only prolong her death. His own second skin Janko had only taken superficial damage and gave an impatient growl signaling her need to end the heathens fleeing from him. He took the sight before him again. This servant of the false god. This blasphemer. This inquisitor had actually done it. He had learned the sacred arts and had perverted it. Even now he could see with his blessed vision the inquisitor before him slowly being eaten from the inside by the demon he summoned and sought to control. There was still time. The demon needed to fully consume the wretch and complete the summoning before being able to wield its full might. The heathens he had just fought must have known this for they disengaged from their stubborn defense and are even now carving their way through the mass of warp flesh and the inquisitor’s henchmen. With an irritated sigh, Dusan gave the order to the Verda Strazar accompanying him to ignore the retreating heathens and focus on the inquisitor who had desecrated their most hallowed rituals. After this he contacted the priest currently attached to his unit, Father Marek who agreed with his assessment that they still had time to end this before the demon fully manifested and was already racing along with him to enter the basilica and begin the ritual needed to counter the inquisitor’s foul rites. He also gave orders to the remaining Meja Strazar who were not driven insane by the inquisitor’s folly to retreat and secure the area around the temple district. Thankfully relatively few reached the Basilica itself. They and the new converts of Styria were not in a position to resist and were easy to subdue or kill by his men. He had known the heathens would resist to the last and had used the most expendable units but he had not expected them to do such perverse acts. He would have to undergo penance for this mistake which had cost precious lives among the faithful. Fighting to the inquisitor was difficult and costly. The flesh creatures proved durable and suffered many blows before falling and the inquisitor’s henchmen fought to the last. It was fortunate that the heathens who just a few moments ago fighting him were carving a way through the rabble to reach the inquisitor. The few members of the Verda Strazar who were blessed with forms capable of flight were able to circumvent the mass of flesh but the inquisitor simply used his stolen knowledge to extend his tentacle appendage to grasp and crush the life out of his men. He could also see that there was little time left, the inquisitor’s soul was all but consumed. Roaring several oaths of purity and hate to exhort his men the Grandmaster redoubled his efforts against the mass of tentacles and was finally rewarded when he made it to the center of the profane ritual to see the inquisitor surrounded by corpses of the heathens in power armor he had clashed with earlier. The heathen he had fought was currently suspended off the ground her form being slowly crushed by an invisible force. The inquisitor’s body convulsed again this time growing a giant spiked tail and having a second face in his abdomen the mass bursting through the armor he wore gibbering profane words. Dusan noted that the transformation halted again and he guessed that this would be the last time. Seeing no other option he charged the prone inquisitor shouting the name of Bahal’din and his prophet Murr. The inquisitor groggily stood up dazed unsure of what to do for a few moments before seeing the seeing the chaotic mutant he had sacrificed all to destroy and with cry to the God Emperor threw his tentacle arm at the Grandmaster its length extending all the way to its target with alarming speed. Dusan quickly bought his powered glaive and deflected the strike and chopped the tentacle into two in a follow up swing. The inquisitor wasting no time and re-grew the tentacle, split it into five and sent it to attack again. The glaive parried the first three strikes. The fourth tore off Dusan’s left arm just above the elbow and the fifth pierced his side gouging a sizable chunk of meat. Janko howled in pain and anger as she failed to stop the blood pouring out from the gaping wounds while Dusan fell to the ground on his face. Shaking from agony and exhaustion, he managed to use his remaining arm and get on his knees just in time to see the inquisitor striding to him his normal arm carrying a power sword while his rosette was carried by his other appendage. Brandishing his sign of office at the prone warrior the inquisitor began formally declaring the various crimes and dark deeds of Dusan who noted that they were quiet many and varied, he didn’t understand most of them but he did get the last. Abominatio Terribilis. That earned a dark chuckle from him the accusation coming from someone so damned. As the inquisitor prepared to execute his prone enemy he was showered with bolter fire. Sister Domenica released from the invisible grip with the inquisitor so distracted was on her feet again and firing her bolter shouting the rites of exorcism. The inquisitor gave an annoyed flick of his finger and a fist sized hole appeared just below the sister’s chest felling her. This distraction however proved the last straw to his will and the demon finally saw its chance for complete control. The inquisitor roared in two voices one human and one not as his form quickly changed to different shapes. Dusan watched this with an oddly detached manner, his rapid blood loss making it hard to concentrate. As he prepared to his soul for the afterlife and prayed for forgiveness for failing in his sacred task he could hear the voice of Father Marek, his voice seemingly so far despite the vox piece in his ear. “It is done Grandmaster.” Father Marek weakly rasped. “Intone the rites.” And Dusan did so. The figure of the inquisitor stopped in its tracts his rapidly changing shape also stopping. The demon now having assumed control prepared to finish the summoning and walk the material realm saw the source of the ritual’s disruption quickly moved his sword arm to decapitate the Dusan who caught the power sword with his remaining arm. The smell of burnt flesh blunted the stench of corruption around them. Dusan could feel all the power in the ritual coursing through him. Though the sword was incredibly painful to hold a quick incantation before it met his hand made sure that he could grip it indefinitely. Whispering another rite he could feel his wounds rapidly closing. Standing up he began intoning the catechisms to exorcise the demon. Normally, he would have exhausted himself just incanting even one of these rites but the inquisitor’s ritual granted him all the power he would need. With his sight enhanced further he could see that beneath the Basilica were thousands of people kept alive despite being half corpses on arcane mechanisms. He did not know how but he quickly saw them as the primary source of the rituals power and grew sickened at yet another sacred law broken and redoubled his words of banishment. The inquisitor saw his chance when the demon was distracted and wounded, quickly regaining control of his body. He fell on his knees all energy spent keeping the demon contained within. He could see the hulking mutant in front of him picking up his dropped weapon. They looked upon each other silently for a while before the mutant said what he had been dreading. Abominatio Terribilis. For it was true, he was one. Resolving to end his life to banish the demon the inquisitor gave a small nod to the mutant and concentrated in containing the demon as the blade swung ending his life. Dusan could feel the power flowing through him. With but a gesture he could have a new arm again. He could use this to serve his God. He could be a God. He could do whatever he wanted. As he began focusing his will into making him a new arm. He remembered what was taught to him. He remembered Murr and the priesthood teaching him and his brothers and sisters about the dangers of going too far, delving too greedily and too deep. He remembered the inquisitor bathing in the very same power he had now and being consumed by it. With great effort Dusan dispelled the rituals binding the power to him and the demon making another attempt at possession closing the hole into the realm of God. Sister Domenica lay still on her back. Most would mistake her for dead if not for the occasional twitch of pain wracking her body. As she struggled to stay alive she felt the presence of that being she fought before. He stood a top of her without an arm and using his glaive more as a stick to support him rather than a weapon of war. Their eyes met and for a moment there were no words spoken or any action taken. “What do you desire heathen?” He asked breaking the silence. “I desire for every single one of you mutant filth to be destroyed and your false witch prophet to be burned on a pyre.” She said blood leaking from her mouth. With some difficulty he knelt down and with his remaining hand took out his new sword strapped to his leg. “Do you wish for me to give you a quick death?” The mutant said. His mandibles surprisingly adept at speaking human words. “Do not presume to give me the Emperor’s peace mutant.” She said trying to move her bolter for one last act of defiance as the blade sunk deep within her. Father Marek lay in a pool of his own blood though every drop has been carefully used to inscribe an intricate pattern on the floor. As Dusan limped towards him he could see that the pattern to disrupt the ritual had cost the priest too much in blood. The priest becoming aware at his approach looked at him and said. “Only the blood willingly given by the maker maybe used.” "As Murr has always said.” Dusan recognizing those words. The priest with a weak gesture at Dusan’s missing arm said. “That will take a few months to grow back.” “Yes.” Dusan said simply. “Make sure it does.” The priest said before dying. “I will Father.” The Grand Master says remembering the temptation to take the easy way earlier and resolving to double his meditations to strengthen his resolve. He limped his way towards the great doors of the basilica and went to see if Maja was still alive enough to be recovered, trusting in his subordinates to mop up.